I HAVEN’T BEEN to my childhood home in Alicia, Isabela for quite a long time. Prior to March this year, my last visit was in early 2006, in the occasion of my brother Gin’s wedding.
After I graduated from college — and that was quite a long time ago! (I feel so old!) — my visits have gotten longer and longer apart and their durations have become shorter and shorter. It only got worse when I started my own family. Corporate jobs forced us to settle in Metro Manila. With the kids still too young for the 8- to 11-hour one-way travel, more frequent visits are simply not possible. It is a good thing that my parents are taking it upon themselves to visit us in Metro Manila during the Christmas Holidays and on summer school breaks.
I had a short glimpse of home late last month when I went to pay my last respects to a dear aunt who, after a long and painful battle, finally succumbed to the big and ugly C.
A flood of long-forgotten emotions overcame me as soon as I saw familiar images of home. It was as if my senses were trying to absorb as much as they could in the very short while (i.e. about 12 hours) that I was there.
A lot has changed in my hometown of Alicia since the last time I was there. I am happy to note that progress is evident, in spite of the difficult times.
Our home has not changed much although there are several noteworthy improvements. The pink color that made it stand out when it was newly built has been replaced with pale yellow. The perimeter fence finally “met” to completely surround the house, thanks to a local businessman who bought the lot next door and promptly erected a 10-foot high fence between us to ensure that we would not trespass onto his property. The “third” room was finally added.
It felt good to be home, but I simply did not have more time to savor it. I wanted to take a photograph that would best encapsulate the memories of my childhood. But even that did not accord me much opportunity. I wanted to take a snapshot of our house itself, to share to my loved ones in Manila, but I was there to condole with our bereaved relatives more than anything else. As my short visit came to an abrupt end I realized that I managed to capture but a single image (see photo above) — that of a cabinet full of old and new photographs, toys, and wedding souvenirs. They are not shown in the photo but I know that they are there forever in that cabinet — the mementos and memories of my childhood.
It isn’t particularly beautiful, our house that is. It definitely isn’t grand. But it does hold warm memories and happy thoughts, and it continues to nurture dreams. And they aren’t just mine.
